I don't know if you have noticed, but I changed my name. Rodent girl was something I thought of when I couldn't think of anything else and no one read my blog. Now, for all two of you who read it regularly, you get to see a different pen name. Not that it matters much.
I constructed my new alias based on my two favorite fictional female doctors. "Remy" from Dr. Remy Hadley from House. and "Stevens" from Dr. Isobel Stevens from Grey's Anatomy. Also known as Thirteen and Izzie respectively. And (insert chimes and bright, flowy colors) Remy Stevens was born. I'm their love child. JK.
I picked this name because both characters are hot and smart. That is all I aspire to be. Plus, I love House and Grey's Anatomy.
The true stories of a girl who became obsessed with them.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
I'm going to dig myself into a ditch
To be honest, I'm pretty bummed about this whole community college thing. It really sucks. I mean, I was sooooo close to getting out of here. I could taste the freedom on my lips. And now, I'm stuck here, in this crappy house, with my annoying parents and siblings (*cough* sister *cough cough*).
This kid I know, who's 18th birthday is today just wrote a blog post about turning 18. I confess I spaced out about half-way through (something about marijuana?) , but that's partly because it started an argument in my head.
He said that turning 18 is unimportant and if anything it's more sucky than being 17 because of new responsibilities. I disagreed I've been 18 for five days and I think it is the coolest thing ever. It's more than just porn, cigarettes, and lottery tickets- it's knowing that you could do stuff if you wanted to. Like getting a tattoo. Bill, the aforementioned blogger, is getting a tattoo. I myself have been thinking about getting one. I don't know if Bill's parents approve of this or not, but mine never would. I find satisfaction, though, in the fact that they have no say in the matter. So, what do you think of a small orange flower on my back, by my shoulder?
But then again, living at home for the next two years limits my would-be freedoms. My parents' house- my parents' rules- as much as I would like to deny that. When my brother, who's a year older than me, started community college last year his curfew got moved up to 2am. A good freedom if you ask me. Won't do me any good though. One of my only friends staying home has the strictest parents I know (yes, worse than yours, Rosie). And neither of us have our licenses. And she lives on the other side of town.
I really could have used that freedom and independence you get when you go away to college. This house, my parents, my siblings (younger) are suffocating me.
Plus, I've already screwed things up with community college seeing as how I can't sign up for any useful classes because they're all full and I got my online account disabled. I was just trying to find out my e-mail address so I could join the network on facebook.
The worst part is all of my friends are going away. They feel sorry for me and try to sympathize, but in their heads they are saying, "Whew! At least it's not me! I'm glad I get to get away from my parents" So, go head. Go to college and party with your cool new college friends. I'll just stay at home, listening to my little sister bitch and insult me to no end.
Sorry, this was a pissy blog. I'll try to get a happier one in eventually.
This kid I know, who's 18th birthday is today just wrote a blog post about turning 18. I confess I spaced out about half-way through (something about marijuana?) , but that's partly because it started an argument in my head.
He said that turning 18 is unimportant and if anything it's more sucky than being 17 because of new responsibilities. I disagreed I've been 18 for five days and I think it is the coolest thing ever. It's more than just porn, cigarettes, and lottery tickets- it's knowing that you could do stuff if you wanted to. Like getting a tattoo. Bill, the aforementioned blogger, is getting a tattoo. I myself have been thinking about getting one. I don't know if Bill's parents approve of this or not, but mine never would. I find satisfaction, though, in the fact that they have no say in the matter. So, what do you think of a small orange flower on my back, by my shoulder?
But then again, living at home for the next two years limits my would-be freedoms. My parents' house- my parents' rules- as much as I would like to deny that. When my brother, who's a year older than me, started community college last year his curfew got moved up to 2am. A good freedom if you ask me. Won't do me any good though. One of my only friends staying home has the strictest parents I know (yes, worse than yours, Rosie). And neither of us have our licenses. And she lives on the other side of town.
I really could have used that freedom and independence you get when you go away to college. This house, my parents, my siblings (younger) are suffocating me.
Plus, I've already screwed things up with community college seeing as how I can't sign up for any useful classes because they're all full and I got my online account disabled. I was just trying to find out my e-mail address so I could join the network on facebook.
The worst part is all of my friends are going away. They feel sorry for me and try to sympathize, but in their heads they are saying, "Whew! At least it's not me! I'm glad I get to get away from my parents" So, go head. Go to college and party with your cool new college friends. I'll just stay at home, listening to my little sister bitch and insult me to no end.
Sorry, this was a pissy blog. I'll try to get a happier one in eventually.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Bye Bye Birdie
My parakeet just died. We knew this was coming. She had been sick for a while. Her name was Baby.
I first got her after pet-sitting her for a friend. My friend didn't want her anymore because she had a lot of cats. I knew we were a good home for her because we already knew a lot about parakeets since my brother had one. That parakeet's name was Mike. As it turns out, Mike was actually a girl. Which was good because Mike and Baby were the closest friends. Mike was outgoing and was always trying to leave the cage. He (She, but we called him a he because he was my brother's) would fly everywhere. Baby would only go if she was following him. After he died of foot cancer, Baby was devastated. She never wanted to leave her cage. A while later, her depression wore off, but she still wasn't big on the flying around thing. She was more of a timid bird.
Baby liked to attack the toys in her cage. To me, it looked like she was training for something. She sure showed those toys who was boss. She was also pretty vocal- when it came to screaming at you. There was a time when she wouldn't let me hold her, but she would let me take her out and she wouldn't let my dad take her out, but she would let him hold her. I admit at times I thought she was crazy.
As she got older, the flying thing wasn't really working out. She would fly a little, then fall to the ground. Sometimes she crashed into walls or the TV. Once on the ground, she seemed perfectly content to stay there until one of us picked her up and brought her back.
There was also this one house plant that she became obsessed with eating. It was right next to her cage and she would try to pull leaves in for snacking. We didn't know if it was bad for her or not, but she seemed fine so we allowed her to keep on eating it. Eventually, the plant got too big and got moved to a different part of the house. I think she missed that plant.
When it became apparent she was getting sick, we tried looking for bird vets, but it turns out you have better luck finding gold than finding one in the area. The nearest ones were like an hour away. We never did take her to the vet. Despite, the growths under her arms, she was doing fine. She was playing and chirping and in good spirits.
Recently, these growths got too big and one could tell the hassle of lugging them around was eating away at her. I suggested to my dad that we try removing them ourselves. When my guinea pig was sick and wasn't eating, his teeth grew too long, so my dad bought a tool and did it himself. The bottom of these growths were dark, opposed to the tops which were red. I hoped this meant there wasn't any blood flow there. I thought it was worth a shot since her quality of life had become so crappy. So my dad did it today while I was in the shower. I do regret not being there, to help out and give suggestions. Maybe things would have been different. But, on the one side, she was bleeding a lot. We think she died from blood loss.
I'm glad she's in a better place now. I love you, Baby!
I first got her after pet-sitting her for a friend. My friend didn't want her anymore because she had a lot of cats. I knew we were a good home for her because we already knew a lot about parakeets since my brother had one. That parakeet's name was Mike. As it turns out, Mike was actually a girl. Which was good because Mike and Baby were the closest friends. Mike was outgoing and was always trying to leave the cage. He (She, but we called him a he because he was my brother's) would fly everywhere. Baby would only go if she was following him. After he died of foot cancer, Baby was devastated. She never wanted to leave her cage. A while later, her depression wore off, but she still wasn't big on the flying around thing. She was more of a timid bird.
Baby liked to attack the toys in her cage. To me, it looked like she was training for something. She sure showed those toys who was boss. She was also pretty vocal- when it came to screaming at you. There was a time when she wouldn't let me hold her, but she would let me take her out and she wouldn't let my dad take her out, but she would let him hold her. I admit at times I thought she was crazy.
As she got older, the flying thing wasn't really working out. She would fly a little, then fall to the ground. Sometimes she crashed into walls or the TV. Once on the ground, she seemed perfectly content to stay there until one of us picked her up and brought her back.
There was also this one house plant that she became obsessed with eating. It was right next to her cage and she would try to pull leaves in for snacking. We didn't know if it was bad for her or not, but she seemed fine so we allowed her to keep on eating it. Eventually, the plant got too big and got moved to a different part of the house. I think she missed that plant.
When it became apparent she was getting sick, we tried looking for bird vets, but it turns out you have better luck finding gold than finding one in the area. The nearest ones were like an hour away. We never did take her to the vet. Despite, the growths under her arms, she was doing fine. She was playing and chirping and in good spirits.
Recently, these growths got too big and one could tell the hassle of lugging them around was eating away at her. I suggested to my dad that we try removing them ourselves. When my guinea pig was sick and wasn't eating, his teeth grew too long, so my dad bought a tool and did it himself. The bottom of these growths were dark, opposed to the tops which were red. I hoped this meant there wasn't any blood flow there. I thought it was worth a shot since her quality of life had become so crappy. So my dad did it today while I was in the shower. I do regret not being there, to help out and give suggestions. Maybe things would have been different. But, on the one side, she was bleeding a lot. We think she died from blood loss.
I'm glad she's in a better place now. I love you, Baby!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Life. Is. Not. Fair. part 2
It's one thing when I have to go to community college. It's another thing when all of the classes I have to take to transfer to U of I are all full. I mean I would have signed up for classes sooner, I did as a matter of fact. I signed on for U of I classes June 2nd, because I thought I was actually going there. And haven't I already suffered enough? At this point, I can't even find enough classes to be considered a full time student.
Anyways, as a consolation prize for myself for not going away, I'm going to get a pet frog. His name will be Francisco. After that guy from Elf. "Francisco! That's fun to say! Francisco... Frannncisco... Franciscooo..."
Anyways, as a consolation prize for myself for not going away, I'm going to get a pet frog. His name will be Francisco. After that guy from Elf. "Francisco! That's fun to say! Francisco... Frannncisco... Franciscooo..."
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Chocolate cake
It's my birthday! Whoo-hoo! Finally 18. I think I'm gonna go enter me in some contests and maybe buy a lottery ticket.
I had my family b-day party today. After a couple of hours, I snuck out to go to a concert I promised my friend I would go to (my parents knew, it's all my other relatives I was sneaking from). Today, (for it is 1:33 am) is going to be awesome- shopping with my peeps, G-force, and perhaps a semi-spontaneous sleepover.
Also, I wrote an e-mail to my almost-roommate telling her I wasn't going. I thought she would be mad. But she wrote this," I am sorry you won't be going to U of I, unless it is for the better in which I am not sorry but happy. I hope that in whatever you do, you will be happy." That was so sweet I started crying a little.
I had my family b-day party today. After a couple of hours, I snuck out to go to a concert I promised my friend I would go to (my parents knew, it's all my other relatives I was sneaking from). Today, (for it is 1:33 am) is going to be awesome- shopping with my peeps, G-force, and perhaps a semi-spontaneous sleepover.
Also, I wrote an e-mail to my almost-roommate telling her I wasn't going. I thought she would be mad. But she wrote this," I am sorry you won't be going to U of I, unless it is for the better in which I am not sorry but happy. I hope that in whatever you do, you will be happy." That was so sweet I started crying a little.
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